Elements: United As One
by JellyBean Productions
Summary: Fourth Year. Mystical powers link the Triwizard Champions. Fire, Water, Earth, Air And Lightning. How will Harry, Fleur, Cedric, Krum and Draco cope with these powers? Will they be able to defeat Voldemort? Harry/Fleur Cedric/Cho and Krum/Katie. Intelligent!Harry.
1. Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE - THE PORTKEY

A/N: A mystical power link the Triwizard Champions. Fire, Water, Earth, Air and Lightening. How will Harry, Fleur, Cedric, Draco and Krum cope with these powers? Will they be able to defeat Voldemort? Harry/Fleur Cedric/Cho and Krum/Katie. Intelligent!Harry

Disclaimer: Not mine. Simples!

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Harry felt as though he had barely lain down to sleep in Ron's room when he was being shaken awake by Hermione.

"Time to go, Harry," she said, moving away to wake Ron.

Harry felt around for his glasses, put them on, and sat up. It was still dark outside. Ron muttered indistinctly as Hermione roused him. At the foot of Harry's mattress he saw two large, disheveled shapes emerging from tangles of blankets.

"'S' time already?" said Fred groggily.

"Yes," snapped Hermione," we'll be late otherwise!"

As they dressed in silence, too sleepy to talk, Harry thought to himself how bossy Hermione and even wondered why he was friends with her. He shifted over to Ron who was dressing moaning about having to get up early. The same thought ran though Harry's head again.

Having tied his laces Harry said," C'mon." The group left Ron's bedroom, although Harry noted Ron remained, still complaining.

Then, yawning and stretching, the three of them headed downstairs into the kitchen. Mrs. Weasley was stirring the contents of a large pot on the stove, while Mr. Weasley was sitting at the table, checking a sheaf of large parchment tickets. He looked up as the boys entered and spread his arms so that they could see his clothes more clearly. He was wearing what appeared to be a golfing sweater and a very old pair of jeans, slightly too big for him and held up with a thick leather belt.

"What d'you think?" he asked anxiously," we're supposed to go incognito, do I look like a Muggle, Harry?"

"Yeah," said Harry, smiling, "very good."

"Where're Bill and Charlie and Per-Per-Percy?" said George, failing to stifle a huge yawn.

"Well, they're Apparating, aren't they?" said Mrs. Weasley, heaving the large pot over to the table and starting to ladle porridge into bowls. "So they can have a bit of a lie-in."

"So they're still in bed?" said Fred grumpily, pulling his bowl of porridge toward him. "Why can't we Apparate too?"

"Because you're not of age and you haven't passed your test," snapped Mrs. Weasley. "And where have those girls got to?"

She bustled out of the kitchen and they heard her climbing the stairs.

"Can Bill, Charlie and Percy all do it?" asked Harry.

"Charlie had to take the test twice," said Fred, grinning. "He failed the first time. Apparated five miles south of where he meant to, right on top of some poor old dear doing her shopping, remember?"

"Yes, well, he passed the second time," said Mrs. Weasley, marching back into the kitchen amid hearty sniggers.

"Percy only passed two weeks ago," said George. "He's been Apparating downstairs every morning since, just to prove he can."

There were footsteps down the passageway and Ron and Ginny came into the kitchen, both looking pale and drowsy.

"Why do we have to be up so early?" Ron said, rubbing his eyes and sitting down at the table.

"We've got a bit of a walk," said Mr. Weasley.

"Walk?" said Harry. "What, are we walking to the World Cup?"

"No, no, that's miles away," said Mr. Weasley, smiling. "We only need to walk a short way. It's just that it's very difficult for a large number of wizards to congregate without attracting Muggle attention. We have to be very careful about how we travel at the best of times, and on a huge occasion like the Quidditch World Cup..."

"George!" said Mrs. Weasley sharply, and they all jumped.

"What?" said George, in an innocent tone that deceived nobody.

"What is that in your pocket?" asks Mrs. Weasley.

"Nothing!" replied George quickly.

"Don't you lie to me!"

Mrs. Weasley pointed her wand at George's pocket and said, "Accio!"

Several small, brightly colored objects zoomed out of George's pocket; he made a grab for them but missed, and they sped right into Mrs. Weasley's outstretched hand.

"We told you to destroy them!" said Mrs. Weasley furiously, holding up what were unmistakably more Ton-Tongue Toffees.

"We told you to get rid of the lot! Empty your pockets, go on, both of you!"

It was an unpleasant scene; the twins had evidently been trying to smuggle as many toffees out of the house as possible, and it was only by using her Summoning Charm that Mrs. Weasley managed to find them all.

"Accio! Accio! Accio!" she shouted, and toffees zoomed from all sorts of unlikely places, including the lining of George's jacket and the turn-ups of Fred's jeans.

"We spent six months developing those!" Fred shouted at his mother as she threw the toffees away.

"Oh a fine way to spend six months!" she shrieked. "No wonder you didn't get more O.W.L.s!"

All in all, the atmosphere was not very friendly as they took their departure. Mrs. Weasley was still glowering as she kissed Mr. Weasley on the cheek, though not nearly as much as the twins, who had each hoisted their rucksacks onto their backs and walked out without a word to her.

"Well, have a lovely time," said Mrs. Weasley, "and behave yourselves," she called after the twins' retreating backs, but they did not look back or answer. "I'll send Bill, Charlie, and Percy along around midday," Mrs. Weasley said to Mr. Weasley, as he, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny set off across the dark yard after Fred and George.

It was chilly and the moon was still out. Only a dull, greenish tinge along the horizon to their right showed that daybreak was drawing closer.

Harry walked up beside the twins and said," Sorry about that, if you hadn't used them on Dudley you wou-"

"No, it's fine," answered George.

"Besides," continued Fred," you don't think that we'd hid them that poorly."

Fred grins and unshouldered his bag and it to reveal a massive stash of Ton-Tongue Toffees and other items.

"I've got about the same in my bag," said George nonechantely.

"We're gonna sell them," explained Fred with an evil grin.

The three then continued walking on in companionable silence.

Mr Weasley then spoke up," We'll be going from the portkey from Stoadshead Hill at seven past five.

They all nodded, Harry remembering the lesson on the portus charm and portkeys from Professor Filtwick. That had been one of the better lesson from his third year. Harry smiled at the memory of Hermione's face when he beat her at Charms, Transfiguration, Potions and DADA.

Harry also thought about the friends he had made towards the end of the last year, around the time his work had began to improve. Cedric Diggory, Cho Chang, Fred and George, Luna Lovegood and Draco Malfoy even approached him to apologise for his actions in first, second and third years. He hadn't told Ron and Hermione about that, he knew they say it was all some 'dark' plan, Harry just hoped it was Draco growing up. Harry had been thinking about his two best friends and how childish they were and had decided to make some new friends and hope they would grow up.

The group trudged down the dark, dank lane toward the village, the silence broken only by their footsteps. The sky lightened very slowly as they made their way through the village, its inky blackness diluting to deepest blue. Harry's hands and feet were freezing. Mr. Weasley kept checking his watch.

They didn't have breath to spare for talking as they began to climb Stoatshead Hill, stumbling occasionally in hidden rabbit holes, slipping on thick black tuffets of grass. Each breath Harry took was sharp in his chest and his legs were starting to seize up when, at last, his feet found level ground.

"Whew," panted Mr. Weasley, taking off his glasses and wiping them on his sweater. "Well, we've made good time - we've got ten minutes."

Hermione came over the crest of the hill last, clutching a stitch in her side.

"Now we just need the Portkey," said Mr. Weasley, replacing his glasses and squinting around at the ground. "It won't be big... Come on..."

They spread out, searching. They had only been at it for a couple of minutes, however, when a shout rent the still air.  
"Over here, Arthur! Over here, son, we've got it."

Two tall figures were silhouetted against the starry sky on the other side of the hilltop.

"Amos!" said Mr. Weasley, smiling as he strode over to the man who had shouted. The rest of them followed.

Mr. Weasley was shaking hands with a ruddy-faced wizard with a scrubby brown beard, who was holding a moldy-looking old boot in his other hand.

"This is Amos Diggory, everyone," said Mr. Weasley. "He works for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. And I think you know his son, Cedric?"

Cedric Diggory was an extremely handsome boy of around sixteen. He was Captain and Seeker of the Hufflepuff House Quidditch team at Hogwarts.

"Hi," said Cedric, looking around at them all.

Everybody said hi back except Ron and Ginny, who merely nodded. They had never quite forgiven Cedric for beating their team, Gryffindor, in the first Quidditch match of the previous year.

Cedric then saw Harry and the two embraced in a brotherly hug and hello to each other. Ron, Hermione and Ginny looked shocked at this, whereas Fred and George were trying not to laugh at Ron, Hermione and Ginny's expressions. The twins then greeted Cedric, having become good friends with him through Harry.

"Long walk, Arthur?" Cedric's father asked. "Not too bad," said Mr. Weasley. "We live just on the other side of the village there. You?"

"Had to get up at two, didn't we, Ced? I tell you, I'll be glad when he's got his Apparition test. Still ... not complaining ... Quidditch World Cup, wouldn't miss it for a sackful of Galleons - and the tickets cost about that. Mind you, looks like I got off easy..." Amos Diggory peered good-naturedly around at the three Weasley boys, Harry, Hermione, and Ginny. "All these yours, Arthur?"

"Oh no, only the redheads," said Mr. Weasley, pointing out his children. "This is Hermione, friend of Ron's - and Harry, another friend -"

"Merlin's beard," said Amos Diggory, his eyes widening. "Harry? Harry Potter?"  
"Er - yeah," said Harry.

Harry was used to people looking curiously at him when they met him, used to the way their eyes moved at once to the lightning scar on his forehead, but it always made him feel uncomfortable.

"Ced's talked about you, of course," said Amos Diggory. "Told us all about playing against you last year... I said to him, I said - Ced, that'll be something to tell your grandchildren, that will, you beat Harry Potter!"

Harry couldn't think of any reply to this, so he remained silent. Fred and George were began scowling at Amos. Cedric looked slightly embarrassed.

"Harry fell off his broom, Dad," he muttered. "I told you, it was an accident-"

"Yes, but you didn't fall off, did you?" roared Amos genially, slapping his son on his back.

"Yes, but I didn't have dementors attacking me, trying to suck my soul out," replied Cedric hotly and smiled apologetically at Harry, who returned it.

"Always modest, our Ced," Amos continued obliviously," always the gentleman ... but the best man won, I'm sure Harry'd say the same, wouldn't you, eh? One falls off his broom, one stays on, you don't need to be a genius to tell which one's the better flier!"

"Must be nearly time," said Mr. Weasley quickly, pulling out his watch again. "Do you know whether we're waiting for any more, Amos?"

"No, the Lovegoods have been there for a week already and the Fawcetts couldn't get tickets," said Mr. Diggory. "There aren't any more of us in this area, are there?"

"Not that I know of," said Mr. Weasley, "yes, it's a minute off, we'd better get ready."

He looked around at Harry and Hermione.  
"You just need to touch the Portkey, that's all, a finger will do -"

"Why are they all standing around that manky old boot?" asked Harry to the twins.

"That isn't just any old manky boot mate," replied Fred.

"It's a portkey," finished George.

With difficulty, owing to their bulky backpacks, the nine of them crowded around the old boot held out by Amos Diggory.

They all stood there, in a tight circle, as a chill breeze swept over the hilltop.

Nobody spoke. It suddenly occurred to Harry how odd this would look if a Muggle were to walk up here now ... nine people, two of them grown men, clutching this manky old boot in the semidarkness, waiting...

Everyone was in a circle putting their hands on the boot.

It happened immediately, Harry felt as though a hook just behind his navel had been suddenly jerked irresistibly forward. His feet left the ground; he could feel Cedric and Fred on either side of him, their shoulders banging into his; they were all speeding forward in a howl of wind and swirling colour; his forefinger was stuck to the boot as though it was pulling him magnetically onward and then-

His feet slammed into the ground; Fred staggered into him, but he managed to keep himself and Fred on their feet. The Portkey hit the ground near his feet with a heavy thud.

Harry looked up. Mr. Weasley, Mr. Diggory, Cedric, Fred and himself were still standing, though they looking very windswept; everybody else was on the ground.

"Seven past five from Stoatshead Hill," said a voice.

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	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO - BAGMAN AND CROUCH

A/N: A mystical power link the Triwizard Champions. Fire, Water, Earth, Air and Lightening. How will Harry, Fleur, Cedric, Draco and Krum cope with these powers? Will they be able to defeat Voldemort? Harry/Fleur Cedric/Cho and Krum/Katie. Intelligent!Harry

Disclaimer: Not mine. Simples!

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Harry disentangled himself from Fred as they had become wrapped up during the landing. They had arrived on what appeared to be a deserted stretch of misty moor. In front of them was a pair of tired and grumpy-looking wizards, one of whom was holding a large gold watch, the other a thick roll of parchment and a quill. Both were dressed as Muggles, though very inexpertly: The man with the watch wore a tweed suit with thigh-length galoshes; his colleague, a kilt and a poncho.

"Morning, Basil," said Mr. Weasley, picking up the boot and handing it to the kilted wizard, who threw it into a large box of used Portkeys beside him; Harry could see an old newspaper, an empty drinks can, and a punctured football.

"Hello there, Arthur," said Basil wearily. "Not on duty, eh? It's all right for some... We've been here all night... You'd better get out of the way, we've got a big party coming in from the Black Forest at five fifteen. Hang on, I'll find your campsite... Weasley ... Weasley..." He consulted his parchment list. "About a quarter of a mile's walk over there, first field you come to. Site manager's called Mr. Roberts. Diggory ... first field as well... ask for Mr. Roberts too."

"Thanks, Basil," said Mr. Weasley, and he beckoned everyone to follow him.

They set off across the deserted moor, unable to make out much through the mist. After about twenty minutes, a small stone cottage next to a gate swam into view. Beyond it, Harry could just make out the ghostly shapes of hundreds and hundreds of tents, rising up the gentle slope of a large field toward a dark wood on the horizon.

A man was standing in the doorway, looking out at the tents. Harry knew at a glance that this was the only real Muggle for several acres. When he heard their footsteps, he turned his head to look at them.

"Morning!" said Mr. Weasley brightly.

"Morning," said the Muggle.

"Would you be Mr. Roberts?"

"Aye, I would," said Mr. Roberts. "And who're you?"

"Weasley - two tents, booked a couple of days ago?"

"Aye," said Mr. Roberts, consulting a list tacked to the door. "You've got a space up by the wood there. Just the one night?"

"That's it," said Mr. Weasley.

"You'll be paying now, then?" said Mr. Roberts.

"Ah - right - certainly -" said Mr. Weasley. He retreated a short distance from the cottage and beckoned Harry toward him.

"Help me, Harry," he muttered, pulling a roll of Muggle money from his pocket and starting to peel the notes apart. "This one's a - a - a ten? Ah yes, I see the little number on it now... So this is a five?"

"A twenty," Harry corrected him in an undertone, uncomfortably aware of Mr. Roberts trying to catch every word.

"Ah yes, so it is... I don't know, these little bits of paper..."

"You foreign?" said Mr. Roberts as Mr. Weasley returned with the correct notes.

"Foreign?" repeated Mr. Weasley, puzzled.

"You're not the first one who's had trouble with money," said Mr. Roberts, scrutinizing Mr. Weasley closely. "I had two try and pay me with great gold coins the size of hubcaps ten minutes ago."

"Did you really?" said Mr. Weasley nervously.

Mr. Roberts rummaged around in a tin for some change.

"Never been this crowded," he said suddenly, looking out over the misty field again. "Hundreds of pre-bookings. People usually just turn up..."

"Is that right?" said Mr. Weasley, his hand held out for his change, but Mr. Roberts didn't give it to him.

"Aye," he said thoughtfully. "People from all over. Loads of foreigners. And not just foreigners. Weirdos, you know? There's a bloke walking 'round in a kilt and a poncho."

"Shouldn't he?" said Mr. Weasley anxiously.

"It's like some sort of... I dunno ... like some sort of rally," said Mr. Roberts. "They all seem to know each other. Like a big party."

At that moment, a wizard in plus-fours appeared out of thin air next to Mr. Roberts's front door.

"Obliviate!" he said sharply, pointing his wand at Mr. Roberts.

Instantly, Mr. Roberts's eyes slid out of focus, his brows unknitted, and a took of dreamy unconcern fell over his face. Harry recognized the symptoms of one who had just had his memory modified.

"A map of the campsite for you," Mr. Roberts said placidly to Mr. Weasley. "And your change."

"Thanks very much," said Mr. Weasley.

Mr. Diggory then approach a confused Mr. Roberts and after Amos payed for his plot, the group set out for the gate.

The wizard in plus-fours accompanied them toward the gate to the campsite. He looked exhausted. His chin was blue with stubble and there were deep purple shadows under his eyes. Once out of earshot of Mr. Roberts, he muttered to Mr. Weasley, "Been having a lot of trouble with him. Needs a Memory Charm ten times a day to keep him happy. And Ludo Bagman's not helping. Trotting around talking about Bludgers and Quaffles at the top of his voice, not a worry about anti-Muggle security. Blimey, I'll be glad when this is over. See you later, Arthur, Amos." He then Disapparated.

"I thought Mr. Bagman was Head of Magical Games and Sports," said Ginny, looking surprised. "He should know better than to talk about Bludgers near Muggles, shouldn't he?"

"He should," said Mr. Weasley, smiling, and leading them through the gates into the campsite, "but Ludo's always been a bit ... well ... lax about security. You couldn't wish for a more enthusiastic head of the sports department though. He played Quidditch for England himself, you know. And he was the best Beater the Wimbourne Wasps ever had."

They trudged up the misty field between long rows of tents. Most looked almost ordinary; their owners had clearly tried to make them as Muggle-like as possible, but had slipped up by adding chimneys, or bellpulls, or weather vanes. However, here and there was a tent so obviously magical that Harry could hardly be surprised that Mr. Roberts was getting suspicious. Halfway up the field stood an extravagant confection of striped silk like a miniature palace, with several live peacocks tethered at the entrance. A little farther on they passed a tent that had three floors and several turrets; and a short way beyond that was a tent that had a front garden attached, complete with birdbath, sundial, and fountain.

"Always the same," said Mr. Weasley, smiling. "We can't resist showing off when we get together. Ah, here we are, look, this is us."

They had reached the very edge of the wood at the top of the field, and here was an empty space, with a small sign hammered into the ground that read WEEZLY. Next to it there was similar size plot with another small sign saying DIGORY.

"Couldn't have a better spot!" said Mr. Weasley happily. "The field is just on the other side of the wood there, we're as close as we could be." He hoisted his backpack from his shoulders. "Right," he said excitedly, "no magic allowed, strictly speaking, not when we're out in these numbers on Muggle land. We'll be putting these tents up by hand! Shouldn't be too difficult... Muggles do it all the time... Here, Harry, where do you reckon we should start?"

Harry had never been camping in his life; the Dursleys had never taken him on any kind of holiday, preferring to leave him with Mrs. Figg, an old neighbor. However, he and Hermione worked out where most of the poles and pegs should go, and though Mr. Weasley was more of a hindrance than a help, because he got thoroughly overexcited when it came to using the mallet, they finally managed to erect a pair of shabby two-man tents, although with a little help from Cedric, who had already set up his tent by himself before they had even started on their first tent.

All of them stood back to admire their handiwork. Nobody looking at these tents would guess they belonged to wizards, Harry thought, but the trouble was that once Bill, Charlie, and Percy arrived, they would be a party of ten. Hermione seemed to have spotted this problem too; she gave Harry a quizzical look as Mr. Weasley dropped to his hands and knees and entered the first tent.

"We'll be a bit cramped," he called, "but I think we'll all squeeze in. Come and have a look."

Harry bent down, ducked under the tent flap, and felt his jaw drop. He had walked into what looked like an old-fashioned, three room flat, complete with bathroom and kitchen. Oddly enough, it was furnished in exactly the same sort of style as Mrs. Figg's house. There were crocheted covers on the mismatched chairs and a strong smell of cats.

"Well, it's not for long," said Mr. Weasley, mopping his bald patch with a handkerchief and peering in at the four bunk beds that stood in the bedroom. "I borrowed this from Perkins at the office. Doesn't camp much anymore, poor fellow, he's got lumbago."

"Choose a bunk and unpack. Ron, get out of the kitchen we're all hungry," continued Mr. Weasley.

"Yeah get out of the kitchen Ron," repeated the twins, who were sat at the table with their feet on it.

"Feet off the table," reprimanded Mr. Weasley, who for a second sounded like his wife.

"Feet off the table," said the twins in sing song voices.

They take their feet off the table and put them back on as soon as Mr. Weasley has walked past.

"I love magic," said Harry whilst smiling.

Mr. Weasley walked into the kitchen and picks up the dusty kettle and peered inside it. "We'll need water..."

"There's a tap marked on this map the Muggle gave us," said George, who had followed Harry inside the tent and seemed completely unimpressed by its extraordinary inner proportions. "It's on the other side of the field."

"Well, why don't you, Harry, and Fred go and get us some water then" - Mr. Weasley handed over the kettle and a couple of saucepans - "and the rest of us will get some wood for a fire?"

"But we've got an oven," said Ron. "Why can't we just -"

"Ron, anti-Muggle security!" said Mr. Weasley, his face shining with anticipation. "When real Muggles camp, they cook on fires outdoors. I've seen them at it!"

After a quick tour of the girls' tent, which was slightly smaller than the boys', though without the smell of cats, Harry, Fred, and George set off across the campsite with the kettle and saucepans, joined by Cedric, who was also on his way to retrieve water.

Now, with the sun newly risen and the mist lifting, they could see the city of tents that stretched in every direction. They made their way slowly through the rows, staring eagerly around. It was only just dawning on Harry how many witches and wizards there must be in the world; he had never really thought much about those in other countries.

Their fellow campers were starting to wake up. First to stir were the families with small children; Harry had never seen witches and wizards this young before. A tiny boy no older than two was crouched outside a large pyramid-shaped tent, holding a wand and poking happily at a slug in the grass, which was swelling slowly to the size of a salami. As they drew level with him, his mother came hurrying out of the tent.

"How many times, Kevin? You don't - touch - Daddy's - wand - yuck! "

She had trodden on the giant slug, which burst. Her scolding carried after them on the still air, mingling with the little boy's yells - "You bust slug! You bust slug!"

A short way farther on, they saw two little witches, barely older than Kevin, who were riding toy broomsticks that rose only high enough for the girls' toes to skim the dewy grass. A Ministry wizard had already spotted them; as he hurried past Harry, Cedric and the twins, he muttered distractedly, "In broad daylight! Parents having a lie-in, I suppose -"

Here and there adult wizards and witches were emerging from their tents and starting to cook breakfast. Some, with furtive looks around them, conjured fires with their wands; others were striking matches with dubious looks on their faces, as though sure this couldn't work.

Three African wizards sat in serious conversation, all of them wearing long white robes and roasting what looked like a rabbit on a bright purple fire, while a group of middle-aged American witches sat gossiping happily beneath a spangled banner stretched between their tents that read: THE SALEM WITCHES' INSTITUTE. Harry caught snatches of conversation in strange languages from the inside of tents they passed, and though he couldn't understand a word, the tone of every single voice was excited.

"Er - is it my eyes, or has everything gone green?" said Fred.

It wasn't just Fred's eyes. They had walked into a patch of tents that were all covered with a thick growth of shamrocks, so that it looked as though small, oddly shaped hillocks had sprouted out of the earth. Grinning faces could be seen under those that had their flaps open. Then, from behind them, they heard their names.

"Harry! Fred! George!"

It was Seamus Finnigan, one of Harry's fellow Gryffindor fourth years. He was sitting in front of his own shamrock-covered tent, with a sandy-haired woman who had to be his mother, and his best friend, Dean Thomas, also of Gryffindor.

"Like the decorations?" said Seamus, grinning. "The Ministry's not too happy."

"Ah, why shouldn't we show our colors?" said Mrs. Finnigan. "You should see what the Bulgarians have got dangling all over their tents. You'll be supporting Ireland, of course?" she added, eyeing them beadily. When they had assured her that they were indeed supporting Ireland, they set off again, though, as Cedric said, "Like we'd say anything else surrounded by that lot." "I wonder what the Bulgarians have got dangling all over their tents?" said George.

"Let's go and have a look," said Harry, pointing to a large patch of tents upfield, where the Bulgarian flag - white, green, and red - was fluttering in the breeze.

The tents here had not been bedecked with plant life, but each and every one of them had the same poster attached to it, a poster of a very surly face with heavy black eyebrows. The picture was, of course, moving, but all it did was blink and scowl.

"Krum," said Fred quietly.

"What?" said Harry.

"Krum!" said Cedric. "Viktor Krum, the Bulgarian Seeker!"

"He looks really grumpy," said Harry, looking around at the many Krums blinking and scowling at them.

"'Really grumpy'?" Fred raised his eyes to the heavens. "Who cares what he looks like? He's unbelievable. He's really young too. Only just sixteen or something. He's a genius, you wait until tonight, you'll see."

There was already a small queue for the tap in the corner of the field. Harry, Cedric and the twins joined it, right behind a pair of men who were having a heated argument. One of them was a very old wizard who was wearing a long flowery nightgown. The other was clearly a Ministry wizard; he was holding out a pair of pinstriped trousers and almost crying with exasperation.

"Just put them on, Archie, there's a good chap. You can't walk around like that, the Muggle at the gate's already getting suspicious -"

"I bought this in a Muggle shop," said the old wizard stubbornly. "Muggles wear them."

"Muggle women wear them, Archie, not the men, they wear these," said the Ministry wizard, and he brandished the pinstriped trousers.

"I'm not putting them on," said old Archie in indignation. "I like a healthy breeze 'round my privates, thanks."

Cedric was overcome with such a strong fit of the giggles at this point that he had to duck out of the queue, followed by Fred and George and they only returned when Archie had collected his water and moved away.

Walking more slowly now, because of the weight of the water, they made their way back through the campsite. Here and there, they saw more familiar faces: other Hogwarts students with their families. Oliver Wood, the old captain of Harry's House Quidditch team, who had just left Hogwarts, dragged Harry over to his parents' tent to introduce him, and told him excitedly that he had just been signed to the Puddlemere United reserve team.

Next they were hailed by Ernie Macmillan, a Hufflepuff fourth year, and a little farther on they saw Cho Chang, a very pretty girl who played Seeker on the Ravenclaw team. She waved and smiled at Cedric, who slopped quite a lot of water down his front as he waved back, much to Harry and the twin's amusement. More to stop them from smirking than anything, Cedric hurriedly pointed out a large group of teenagers whom he had never seen before.

"Who d'you reckon they are?" he said. "They don't go to Hogwarts, do they?"

"'Spect they go to some foreign school," said Fred. "I know there are others. Never met anyone who went to one, though. Bill had a penfriend at a school in Brazil ... this was years and years ago ... and he wanted to go on an exchange trip but Mum and Dad couldn't afford it. His penfriend got all offended when he said he wasn't going and sent him a cursed hat. It made his ears shrivel up."

Harry laughed but didn't voice the amazement he felt at hearing about other wizarding schools. He supposed, now that he saw representatives of so many nationalities in the campsite, that he had been stupid never to realize that Hogwarts couldn't be the only one. He glanced at Cedric, who looked utterly unsurprised by the information. No doubt he had run across the news about other wizarding schools from his father.

"You've been ages," said Ron when they finally got back to the Weasleys's tents.

"Met a few people," said Cedric, who had joined them along with his father in the Weasleys's tent, setting the water down. "You've not got that fire started yet?"

"Dad's having fun with the matches," said Ron.

Mr. Weasley was having no success at all in lighting the fire, but it wasn't for lack of trying. Splintered matches littered the ground around him, but he looked as though he was having the time of his life.  
"Oops!" he said as he managed to light a match and promptly dropped it in surprise.

"Come here, Mr. Weasley," said Cedric kindly, taking the box from him, and showing him how to do it properly.

At last they got the fire lit, though it was at least another hour before it was hot enough to cook anything. There was plenty to watch while they waited, however. Their tent seemed to be pitched right alongside a kind of thoroughfare to the field, and Ministry members kept hurrying up and down it, greeting Mr. Weasley cordially as they passed. Mr. Weasley kept up a running commentary, mainly for Harry's and Hermione's benefit; his own children knew too much about the Ministry to be greatly interested.

"That was Cuthbert Mockridge, Head of the Goblin Liaison Office... Here comes Gilbert Wimple; he's with the Committee on Experimental Charms; he's had those horns for a while now... Hello, Arnie ... Arnold Peasegood, he's an Obliviator - member of the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad, you know... and that's Bode and Croaker ... they're Unspeakables..."

"They're what?"

"From the Department of Mysteries, top secret, no idea what they get up to..."

At last, the fire was ready, and they had just started cooking eggs and sausages when Bill, Charlie, and Percy came strolling out of the woods toward them.  
"Just Apparated, Dad," said Percy loudly.

"Ah, excellent, lunch!"

They were halfway through their plates of eggs and sausages when Mr. Weasley jumped to his feet, waving and grinning at a man who was striding toward them. "Aha!" he said. "The man of the moment! Ludo!"

Ludo Bagman was easily the most noticeable person Harry had seen so far, even including old Archie in his flowered nightdress. He was wearing long Quidditch robes in thick horizontal stripes of bright yellow and black. An enormous picture of a wasp was splashed across his chest. He had the look of a powerfully built man gone slightly to seed; the robes were stretched tightly across a large belly he surely had not had in the days when he had played Quidditch for England. His nose was squashed (probably broken by a stray Bludger, Harry thought), but his round blue eyes, short blond hair, and rosy complexion made him look like a very overgrown schoolboy.

"Ahoy there!" Bagman called happily. He was walking as though he had springs attached to the balls of his feet and was plainly in a state of wild excitement.

"Arthur, old man," he puffed as he reached the campfire, "what a day, eh? What a day! Could we have asked for more perfect weather? A cloudless night coming ... and hardly a hiccough in the arrangements... Not much for me to do!"  
Behind him, a group of haggard-looking Ministry wizards rushed past, pointing at the distant evidence of some sort of a magical fire that was sending violet sparks twenty feet into the air.

Percy hurried forward with his hand outstretched. Apparently his disapproval of the way Ludo Bagman ran his department did not prevent him from wanting to make a good impression.

"Ah - yes," said Mr. Weasley, grinning, "this is my son Percy. He's just started at the Ministry - and this is Fred - no, George, sorry - that's Fred - Bill, Charlie, Ron - my daughter, Ginny and Ron's friends, Hermione Granger and Harry Potter and Amos Diggory and his son Cedric."

Bagman did the smallest of double takes when he heard Harry's name, and his eyes performed the familiar flick upward to the scar on Harry's forehead.

"Everyone," Mr. Weasley continued, "this is Ludo Bagman, you know who he is, it's thanks to him we've got such good tickets -"

Bagman beamed and waved his hand as if to say it had been nothing.

"Fancy a flutter on the match, Arthur?" he said eagerly, jingling what seemed to be a large amount of gold in the pockets of his yellow-and-black robes. "I've already got Roddy Pontner betting me Bulgaria will score first - I offered him nice odds, considering Ireland's front three are the strongest I've seen in years - and little Agatha Timms has put up half shares in her eel farm on a weeklong match."

"Oh ... go on then," said Mr. Weasley. "Let's see ... a Galleon on Ireland to win?"

"A Galleon?" Ludo Bagman looked slightly disappointed, but recovered himself. "Very well, very well ... any other takers?"

"They're a bit young to be gambling," said Mr. Weasley. "Molly wouldn't like -"

"We'll bet thirty-seven Galleons, fifteen Sickles, three Knuts," said Fred as he and George quickly pooled all their money, "that Ireland wins - but Viktor Krum gets the Snitch. Oh and we'll throw in a fake wand."

"You don't want to go showing Mr. Bagman rubbish like that," Percy hissed, but Bagman didn't seem to think the wand was rubbish at all; on the contrary, his boyish face shone with excitement as he took it from Fred, and when the wand gave a loud squawk and turned into a rubber chicken, Bagman roared with laughter.

"Excellent! I haven't seen one that convincing in years! I'd pay five Galleons for that!"

Percy froze in an attitude of stunned disapproval.

"Boys," said Mr. Weasley under his breath, "I don't want you betting... That's all your savings ... Your mother -"

"Don't be a spoilsport, Arthur!" boomed Ludo Bagman, rattling his pockets excitedly. "They're old enough to know what they want! You reckon Ireland will win but Krum'll get the Snitch? Not a chance, boys, not a chance... I'll give you excellent odds on that one ... We'll add five Galleons for the funny wand, then, shall we..."

Mr. Weasley looked on helplessly as Ludo Bagman whipped out a notebook and quill and began jotting down the twins' names.  
"Cheers," said George, taking the slip of parchment Bagman handed him and tucking it away into the front of his robes. Bagman turned most cheerfully back to Mr. Weasley.

"Couldn't do me a brew, I suppose? I'm keeping an eye out for Barty Crouch. My Bulgarian opposite number's making difficulties, and I can't understand a word he's saying. Barty'll be able to sort it out. He speaks about a hundred and fifty languages."

"Mr. Crouch?" said Percy, suddenly abandoning his look of poker-stiff disapproval and positively writhing with excitement. "He speaks over two hundred! Mermish and Gobbledegook and Troll..."

"Anyone can speak Troll," said Fred dismissively. "All you have to do is point and grunt."

Percy threw Fred an extremely nasty look and stoked the fire vigorously to bring the kettle back to the boil.

"Any news of Bertha Jorkins yet, Ludo?" Mr. Weasley asked as Bagman settled himself down on the grass beside them all.

"Not a dicky bird," said Bagman comfortably. "But she'll turn up. Poor old Bertha ... memory like a leaky cauldron and no sense of direction. Lost, you take my word for it. She'll wander back into the office sometime in October, thinking it's still July."

"You don't think it might be time to send someone to look for her?" Mr. Weasley suggested tentatively as Percy handed Bagman his tea.

"Barty Crouch keeps saying that," said Bagman, his round eyes widening innocently, "but we really can't spare anyone at the moment. Oh - talk of the devil! Barty!"

A wizard had just Apparated at their fireside, and he could not have made more of a contrast with Ludo Bagman, sprawled on the grass in his old Wasp robes. Barty Crouch was a stiff, upright, elderly man, dressed in an impeccably crisp suit and tie. The parting in his short gray hair was almost unnaturally straight, and his narrow toothbrush mustache looked as though he trimmed it using a slide rule. His shoes were very highly polished. Harry could see at once why Percy idolized him. Percy was a great believer in rigidly following rules, and Mr. Crouch had complied with the rule about Muggle dressing so thoroughly that he could have passed for a bank manager; Harry doubted even Uncle Vernon would have spotted him for what he really was.  
"Pull up a bit of grass, Barry," said Ludo brightly, patting the ground beside him.

"No thank you, Ludo," said Crouch, and there was a bite of impatience in his voice. "I've been looking for you everywhere. The Bulgarians are insisting we add another twelve seats to the Top Box."

"Oh is that what they're after?" said Bagman. "I thought the chap was asking to borrow a pair of tweezers. Bit of a strong accent."

"Mr. Crouch!" said Percy breathlessly, sunk into a kind of halfbow that made him look like a hunchback. "Would you like a cup of tea?"

"Oh," said Mr. Crouch, looking over at Percy in mild surprise. "Yes - thank you, Weatherby."

Fred, George, Harry and Cedric all choked into their own cups. Percy, very pink around the ears, busied himself with the kettle.

"Oh and I've been wanting a word with you too, Arthur," said Mr. Crouch, his sharp eyes falling upon Mr. Weasley. "Ali Bashir's on the warpath. He wants a word with you about your embargo on flying carpets."

Mr. Weasley heaved a deep sigh.  
"I sent him an owl about that just last week. If I've told him once I've told him a hundred times: Carpets are defined as a Muggle Artifact by the Registry of Proscribed Charmable Objects, but will he listen?"

"I doubt it," said Mr. Crouch, accepting a cup from Percy. "He's desperate to export here."

"Well, they'll never replace brooms in Britain, will they?" said Bagman.

"Ali thinks there's a niche in the market for a family vehicle," said Mr. Crouch. "I remember my grandfather had an Axminster that could seat twelve - but that was before carpets were banned, of course."

He spoke as though he wanted to leave nobody in any doubt that all his ancestors had abided strictly by the law.

"So, been keeping busy, Barty?" said Bagman breezily.

"Fairly," said Mr. Crouch dryly. "Organising Portkeys across five continents is no mean feat, Ludo."

"I expect you'll both be glad when this is over?" said Mr. Weasley.

Ludo Bagman looked shocked. "Glad! Don't know when I've had more fun... Still, it's not as though we haven't got anything to took forward to, eh, Barty? Eh? Plenty left to organize, eh?"  
Mr. Crouch raised his eyebrows at Bagman.

"We agreed not to make the announcement until all the details -"

"Oh details!" said Bagman, waving the word away like a cloud of midges. "They've signed, haven't they? They've agreed, haven't they? I bet you anything these kids'll know soon enough anyway. I mean, it's happening at Hogwarts -"

"Ludo, we need to meet the Bulgarians, you know," said Mr. Crouch sharply, cutting Bagman's remarks short. "Thank you for the tea, Weatherby."

He pushed his undrunk tea back at Percy and waited for Ludo to rise; Bagman struggled to his feet, swigging down the last of his tea, the gold in his pockets chinking merrily.

"See you all later!" he said. "You'll be up in the Top Box with me - I'm commentating!" He waved, Barty Crouch nodded curtly, and both of them Disapparated.

"What's happening at Hogwarts, Dad?" said Fred at once. "What were they talking about?"

"You'll find out soon enough," said , smiling.

"It's classified information, until such time as the Ministry decides to release it," said Percy stiffly. "Mr. Crouch was quite right not to disclose it."

"Oh shut up, Weatherby," said Fred.

XXXXXXXXXX

Ten minutes later Harry and Cedric had been charged with retrieving more water from the taps. As the two walked along side each other they chatted aimlessly, enjoying each others company. After a few minute Harry realised he felt more comfortable talking to Cedric than Ron or Hermione.

Catching sight to a large tent, shaped like a castle, Harry turned his head to look at it. As he went to look straight ahead again he felt himself hit someone and fell to the ground, with the person he hit on top of him.

Opening his eyes all he could see was silver. After a few seconds he realised it was the hair of the person he'd walked into.

"I'm sorr-," Harry stopped when the person turn their head so Harry could see it. Harry realised with a shock that it was a girl, around sixteen, who had the most beautiful eyes Harry had ever seen.

Her eyes were the deepest blue and looked as if they contained all the seas of the world. Harry was mesmerised.

"Excuze moi," said the girl, interrupting the trance Harry was in.

"Oh, I'm sorry," apologised Harry as he realises he is holding her arms.

"It's fine," said the girl as she stands up, shortly joined by a dazed Harry.

"I'm Fleur, by the way," she said in with a slight French accent," Fleur Delacour."

"Harry, Harry Potter," he replied still staring at her eyes.

"Oh, az in ZE Harry Potter?" asked Fleur. Harry broke out of his trance as he realised Fleur's eyes didn't do the usual flick to his scar that most people did when they met him.

"Yes," answered Harry, only now seeing how attractive Fleur is.

"Are you here to see ze World Cup?" Fleur asked.

To Harry her accent, although faint, was like music. "Ye-Yeah," stuttered Harry.

"Where are you sitting?" asked Fleur.

"Top Box," replied Harry.

"Me too," said Fleur excitedly.

"And me," said Cedric sarcastically, who has been mostly ignored and continued to be.

"I'll see you then," Harry stated.

"Oui, see you then," replied Fleur.

"Bye," Harry sighed happily as Fleur turned around and walked away.

"Well, that went well," said Cedric, before breaking into laughter, clapping Harry on the back.

Harry growled menacingly.

XXXXXXXXXXX

As Fleur walked away she smiled happily. Harry, unlike most boys who she met, due to being a quarter Veela, had not been staring at her body, but at her eyes.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

As they walked back to their tents via the Bulgarian tents after collecting more water, Harry and Cedric met a familiar figure. Victor Krum.

"Oh hello," said Krum, a slightly less surly look on his face," I know who you are," pointing at Harry.

Harry sighed and began to say," In know I'm Ha-,"

"Harry Potter," interrupted Krum," Gryffindor Seeker at Hogwarts, I've heard great things about your flying."

"You have," whispered Harry disbelievingly.

"Yes, and you too," replied Krum, nodding his head at Cedric," Cedric Diggory, Hufflepuff Seeker at Hogwarts, I've also heard great things about your flying."

"I look to hopefully flying with you next year at Hogwarts," continued Krum," see you at the match," he finished as he walked away.

"Hogwarts, next year?" asked Harry, confused.

Cedric, equally confused, shrugged.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

A sense of excitement rose like a palpable cloud over the campsite as the afternoon wore on. By dusk, the still summer air itself seemed to be quivering with anticipation, and as darkness spread like a curtain over the thousands of waiting wizards, the last vestiges of pretence disappeared: the Ministry seemed to have bowed to the inevitable and stopped fighting the signs of blatant magic now breaking out everywhere.

Salesmen were Apparating every few feet, carrying trays and pushing carts full of extraordinary merchandise. There were luminous rosettes - green for Ireland, red for Bulgaria - which were squealing the names of the players, pointed green hats bedecked with dancing shamrocks, Bulgarian scarves adorned with lions that really roared, flags from both countries that played their national anthems as they were waved; there were tiny models of Firebolts that really flew, and collectible figures of famous players, which strolled across the palm of your hand, preening themselves.

"Been saving my pocket money all summer for this," Ron told Harry as they and Hermione strolled through the salesmen, buying souvenirs. Though Ron purchased a dancing shamrock hat and a large green rosette, he also bought a small figure of Viktor Krum, the Bulgarian Seeker. The miniature Krum walked backward and forward over Ron's hand, scowling up at the green rosette above him.

"Wow, look at these!" said Harry, hurrying over to a cart piled high with what looked like brass binoculars, except that they were covered with all sorts of weird knobs and dials.

"Omnioculars," said the saleswizard eagerly. "You can replay action ... slow everything down ... and they flash up a play-by- play breakdown if you need it. Bargain - ten Galleons each."

"Wish I hadn't bought this now," said Ron, gesturing at his dancing shamrock hat and gazing longingly at the Omnioculars.  
"Three pairs," said Harry firmly to the wizard.

"No - don't bother," said Ron, going red. He was always touchy about the fact that Harry, who had inherited a small fortune from his parents, had much more money than he did.

"You won't be getting anything for Christmas," Harry told him, thrusting Omnioculars into his and Hermione's hands. "For about ten years, mind."

"Fair enough," said Ron, grinning.

"Oooh, thanks, Harry," said Hermione. "And I'll get us some programs, look -"

Their money bags considerably lighter, they went back to the tents. Cedric, Bill, Charlie, and Ginny were all sporting green rosettes too, and Mr. Weasley was carrying an Irish flag. Fred and George had no souvenirs as they had given Bagman all their gold.

And then a deep, booming gong sounded somewhere beyond the woods, and at once, green and red lanterns blazed into life in the trees, lighting a path to the field.  
"It's time!" said Mr. Weasley, looking as excited as any of them. "Come on, let's go!"

XXXXXXXXXXX

To be clear, I will be writing Fleur with only a slight French accent.


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3 - THE QUIDDITCH WORLD CUP

A/N: A mystical power link the Triwizard Champions. Fire, Water, Earth, Air and Lighting. How will Harry, Fleur, Cedric, Krum and Draco cope with these powers? Will they be able to defeat Voldemort? Harry/Fleur Cedric/Cho and Krum/Katie. Intelligent!Harry

A/N 2: I decided to include a modified version of the match in this chapter, due to being one of my favourite parts of HP.

A/N 3: I have edited and reposted this chapter.

Disclaimer: Not mine. Simples!

XXXXXXXXXXXX

Clutching their purchases, Mr. Weasley in the lead, they all hurried into the wood, following the lantern-lit trail. They could hear the sounds of thousands of people moving around them, shouts and laughter, snatches of singing. The atmosphere of feverish excitement was highly infectious; Harry couldn't stop grinning. They walked through the wood for twenty minutes, talking and joking loudly, until at last they emerged on the other side and found themselves in the shadow of a gigantic stadium. Though Harry could see only a fraction of the immense gold walls surrounding the field, he could tell that ten cathedrals would fit comfortably inside it.

"Seats a hundred thousand," said Mr. Weasley, spotting the awestruck look on Harry's face. "Ministry task force of five hundred have been working on it all year. Muggle Repelling Charms on every inch of it. Every time Muggles have got anywhere near here all year, they've suddenly remembered urgent appointments and had to dash away again...bless them," he added fondly, leading the way toward the nearest entrance, which was already surrounded by a swarm of shouting witches and wizards.

"Prime seats!" said the Ministry witch at the entrance when she checked their tickets. "Top Box! Straight upstairs, Arthur, you too Amos, and as high as you can go."

The stairs into the stadium were carpeted in rich purple. They clambered upward with the rest of the crowd, which slowly filtered away through doors into the stands to their left and right. Their party kept climbing, and at last they reached the top of the staircase and found themselves in a small box, set at the highest point of the stadium and situated exactly halfway between the golden goal posts. About thirty purple-and-gilt chairs stood in three rows.

As they entered Harry nearly crumpled as he was hit by a silver-haired girl, who hugged him tightly. Harry looked down to see the enthralling blue eyes of Fleur.

"Quick, come sit with me," said Fleur dragging Harry away, followed by an amused Cedric.

When Fleur stopped Harry was greeted by a handsome, dark-haired man, who Harry presumed was Fleur's dad.

"Jacques Delacour, Head of International Co-operation for France, pleased to meet you," said the man, shaking Harry's hand.

Next to her a woman who appeared to be Fleur's mother," Astrid Delacour, we've heard a lot about you," said Fleur's mother, making Fleur blush.

"This is my younger sister, Gabrielle," said Fleur gesturing at a young girl who looked almost like a ten year old version of Fleur.

"Who's this strapping young man," asked Astrid, indicating towards Cedric.

Fleur was lost for words, unsure of who Cedric was, although she seen him mere hours ago.

"I think someone one looking at Harry a bit too much," said Jacques, making Fleur and Harry blush, much to Cedric's amusement.

"Ahh, young love," joked Cedric, only to receive a punch in the arm from Harry.

"Who can blame them?" asked Astrid wistfully, which made Cedric snigger.

"I'm Cedric Diggory, by the way," he said, as he recovered from his laughter. He then shook hands with Jacques and Astrid.

The group then sat down. Jacques sat on the far left with Astrid, Gabrielle and Fleur to his right. Harry had sat next to Fleur with Cedric on his other side. Harry could only grin goofily at his closeness to Fleur.

Harry only then realised they were sat some distance from the Weasleys. He nearly laughed at their reactions, Ron was sat staring at them in disbelief, as were Bill, Charlie and Percy. Ginny was slightly fuming and the twins merely grinned before they got up and joined their group, taking the seats to Cedric's right.

"What do we have here?" asked Fred.

"Looks like little Harry has been holding out on us," replied George, gesturing to Fleur.

"Not so little anymore, is he?" added Cedric. The three of them then broke into laughter, making both Harry and Fleur blush.

"This is Fred and George Weasley, Hogwarts resident pranksters," said Harry, over the laughter of his friends," don't worry, you'll get used to them, hopefully."

"Actually it's Gred and Forge," added the twins.

This statement made Fleur laugh," so you all go to Hogwarts?"

"Yeah," answered Harry," where do you go?"

"Beauxbatons," replied Fleur to Harry's disappointment," it's going to a interesting year to say the least."

"Why?" asked Cedric, now interested.

"You don't know about it, do you?" answered Fleur.

"About what?" questioned George.

"The Triwizard Cup, my dad told me about it," stated Fleur.

"The what?," asked Harry, confused.

"The Triwizard Tournament was first established some seven hundred years ago as a friendly competition between the three largest European schools of wizardry, Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang. A champion was selected to represent each school, and the three champions competed in three magical tasks. The schools took it in turns to host the tournament once every five years, and it was generally agreed to be a most excellent way of establishing ties between young witches and wizards of different nationalities - until, that is, the death toll mounted so high that the tournament was discontinued," explained Fleur.

"That sounds fun," said Harry sarcastically.

"Oh, come on," said Fleur," in fact I'm thinking of entering, considering ill be of age on the tenth of September."

Harry shoulders noticeably slumpped at this statement, what would an amazingly beautiful girl, who was nearly an adult, want with him?

"Of age?" asked Fred.

"Oui, you have to be of age to enter," replied Fleur.

"By when?" questioned George.

"Halloween," answered Fleur, making the twins groan in disappointment, as their birthday was April 1st, well beyond the allotted date.

"You know, I might enter," said Cedric thoughtfully.

"When are you of age?" asked Harry.

"September 16th," replied Cedric.

"What year are you gonna be in when we go back?" questioned Harry.

"Sixth Year, so will Gred and Forge, Fleur? replied Cedric.

Fleur nodded her head," oui, I'll be going into Sixth Year, as the English say, in France we call it 'le première année'."

"Viktor Krum is gonna be in Sixth Year," said Fred dreamily. This made Harry, Fleur, Cedric and George laugh.

"What year going back into?" asked Fleur, after the laughter had subsided.

"Fourth Year," replied Harry.

"Really, I thought you would have been at least Fifth Year," said Fleur surprised.

"Yeah Harry, you do look different, older somehow," said Cedric thoughtfully.

"That's it," shouted Fred triumphantly," your hair, you've grown your hair."

Harry ran his hand through his hair and realised how long it had gotten, it was starting to cover his eyes.

"I like it," said Fleur, making Harry blush and Cedric and the twins snigger.

"Ah-well-ummm," stuttered Harry.

"You've put weight on as well," said George," in a good way, you looked real skinny before."

"At least mum I'll be happy," said Fred, as George nodded his head enthusiastically.

Harry flicked as lock of hair from over his eyes, now conscious of his long hair," yeah, since Dudley got put on a diet, I sent a letter to Ron, Hermione and Hagrid practically begging for food."

"Who's Dudley?" asked Fleur.

To answer this Harry quickly explained the Dursleys and how they had treated.

Harry again flicked away a lock of hair," I got loads of food back."

"Who from?" asked Fred interested.

Before Harry could reply, Fleur put her hand in her pocket and pulled out a red hairband.

"Here, use this," she said, handing it to him. Harry grimaced, but put it on.

"Anyways," spoke Harry," I got food from you, Hermione, Hagrid, Dumbledore, McGonagall and Snape."

"Snape!" choked Fred through his drink," he hates you! Why?"

Harry shrugged," I dunno."

"You know your mum and Snape were best friends as children," said Cedric, shocking Harry and the twins.

"Really, how do you know?" asked Harry in disbelief.

"My dad told me," replied Cedric," he was the year above them."

"Then why does he hate Harry?" asked Fred.

"Apparently he loved her," explained Cedric," probably still does."

"But still, why," said George.

"He probably hates Harry because he looks so much like his father, who hates for taking Lily away from him," commented Cedric.

Before Harry could reply a voice rang out," oh look who it is, The Boy Who Lived."

The group span in there seats to find the speaker was none other than Lucius Malfoy, flanked by his son, Draco Malfoy and his wife, Narcissa Malfoy.

Lucius looked at the twins and Fleur," Weasleys and a half-breed, I thought you could stoop no lower."

Mr. Weasley then approached them," what's going on here?" he then looked at Lucius," oh, it's you."

"Come on, Arthur," said Lucius, "what did you have to sell to get seats in the Top Box? Surely your house wouldn't have fetched this much?"

Before Mr. Weasley could reply the Minister for Magic, Cornelius Fudge walked up.

Harry and Draco Malfoy had been enemies ever since their very first journey to Hogwarts. A pale boy with a pointed face and white-blond hair, Draco greatly resembled his father. His mother was blonde too; tall and slim, she would have been nice-looking if she hadn't been wearing a look that suggested there was a nasty smell under her nose. Then to Harry's surprise Draco's face softened and he mouthed 'sorry' to Harry and his friends, before his faced hardened again.

"Ah, Fudge," said Lucius, holding out his hand as he reached the Minister of Magic. "How are you? I don't think you've met my wife, Narcissa? Or our son, Draco?"

"How do you do, how do you do?" said Fudge, smiling and bowing to Narcissa. "And allow me to introduce you to Mr. Oblansk - Obalonsk - Mr. - well, he's the Bulgarian Minister of Magic, and he can't understand a word I'm saying anyway, so never mind. And let's see who else - you know Arthur Weasley, I daresay?"

It was a tense moment. Mr. Weasley and Lucius looked at each other and Harry vividly recalled the last time they had come face-to-face: It had been in Flourish and Blotts' bookshop, and they had had a fight. Lucius's cold gray eyes swept over Mr. Weasley, and then up and down the row.

Cornelius Fudge then greeted Harry like an old friend. They had met before, and Fudge shook Harry's hand in a fatherly fashion, asked how he was, and introduced him to the wizards on either side of him.

"Harry Potter, you know," he told the Bulgarian minister loudly, who was wearing splendid robes of black velvet trimmed with gold and didn't seem to understand a word of English. "Harry Potter...oh come on now, you know who he is...the boy who survived You-Know-Who...you do know who he is -"

The Bulgarian wizard suddenly spotted Harry's scar and started gabbling loudly and excitedly, pointing at it.

"Knew we'd get there in the end," said Fudge wearily to Harry. "I'm no great shakes at languages; I need Barty Crouch for this sort of thing. Ah, I see his house-elf's saving him a seat...Good job too, these Bulgarian blighters have been trying to cadge all the best places"

Fudge then said, "Lucius has just given a very generous contribution to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, Arthur. He's here as my guest."

"How - how nice," said Mr. Weasley, with a very strained smile.

Lucius nodded sneeringly to Mr. Weasley and continued down the line to his seats. Draco shot Harry one contemptuous look, then settled himself between his mother and father. This only served to confuse Harry further.

Sitting down Harry asked to Fleur," why did he call you a half breed?"

"Because I'm a quarter Veela," replied Fleur slightly upset.

"What's a Veela?" asked Harry.

"A Veela is a creature that resembles a woman, in times gone by Veela would entice men into their lair using their charming powers," replied Fleur.

"Charming powers?" questioned Harry.

"Yeah, they make themselves look unresistable to men," continued Fleur, who then completed an in depth explanation of a Veela.

"Well, if you ask me, I'd say I didn't care if you were a quarter Veela," said Harry, making Fleur both blush and smile.

Harry sat back in his comfortably, only to see Ron and Hermione gesturing to talk to them. Groaning, he stood up, in the last few hours Harry had been doing some serious thinking. Mostly due to his new friendships with Fleur, Cedric and the twins.

He had realised how jealous Ron was, he had seen the dirty and jealous looks he'd been giving him when he was sat with Fleur. Harry had also realises how obnoxious Hermione truly was. In the exams at the end of third year Harry had excelled in his exams. He had beaten Hermione in DADA, Charms, Transfiguration and Potions. Hermione had refused to speak to him for ages after that and even when she began speaking to him she had been very cold towards him.

The professors of each of the subjects he had beaten Hermione in had approached him and given him extra work to do, which he had already completed. Professor McGonagall had even suggested he might be able to take his OWLs at the end of fourth year and move straight onto sixth year.

Dragging his feet, he reached Hermione and Ron, who dragging him out of the Top Box.

Once they had left Hermione screeched," Her!" at the top of her voice.

"What do you mean?" asked Harry.

"She's a half-breed," said Hermione," she's a Veela."

"So what if she is?" asked Harry rhetorically.

"She's probably using her charm on you, mate," replied Ron.

"That was a rhetorical question, Ron and trust me, I've seen the jealous looks and the way you've been acting and safely say you are no longer my friend," shouted Harry.

"What!" shouted Ron back," Just because of that Veela slut!"

As Harry heard this he could actually feel fire burning in his veins. Without a seconds delay Harry launched forwards and punched Ron squarely on the jaw.

"Don't you ever call her that," whispered Harry menacingly," she's twice the person you'll ever be."

Hermione tried to approach Harry," Sod off Hermione," shouted Harry," you obnoxious interferer!"

Harry turned around and re-entered the Top Box leaving a dazed Ron and a confused Hermione.

As he entered the box, Harry could feel the stares piecing into him. Obviously the Top Box was not sound-proofed. Harry quickly walked back to his seat and sat down, sighing.

"That bad huh," said Cedric.

Harry nodded.

"Our arrogant, obnoxious prat of a brother being his usual self?" asked Fred.

Harry nodded.

"Wanna talk about it?" asked George.

Harry shook his head.

"Oh Fred, by the way you missed self-centered," said Harry, making the others chuckle.

Five minutes later Ron and Hermione re-entered the Top Box, both looked like they had been crying.

Before could react Ludo Bagman erupted into the Top Box," now if you don't mind, let's get on with the show."

"Ready when you are, Ludo," said Fudge comfortably.

Ludo whipped out his wand, directed it at his own throat, and said "Sonorus!" and then spoke over the roar of sound that was now filling the packed stadium; his voice echoed over them, booming into every corner of the stands.

"Ladies and gentlemen...welcome! Welcome to the final of the four hundred and twenty-second Quidditch World Cup!"

The spectators screamed and clapped. Thousands of flags waved, adding their discordant national anthems to the racket. The huge blackboard opposite them was wiped clear of its last message (Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans - A Risk With Every Mouthful!) and now showed BULGARIA: 0, IRELAND: 0.

"And now, without further ado, allow me to introduce...the Bulgarian National Team Mascots!"

The right-hand side of the stands, which was a solid block of scarlet, roared its approval.

Then a hundred veela, as Fleur had described them, were now gliding out onto the field. The veela had started to dance, and Harry couldn't help but laugh, the twins were flexing their muscles and the other Weasleys, bar Mr Weasley, were performing all manner of amusing stunts.

Harry looked around the stadium, a small number of men looked unaffected. The only men unaffected in the Top Box were Cedric, Draco, Mr Weasley, Jacques and himself. The fact that Harry was unaffected made all the Delacours look in surprise. The lack of response shown in Harry was something that was strived for by Veela.

Harry watched as the Veela line up at the side of the field. Harry, along with Cedric and Fleur burst out laughing at Ron, who was frozen in an attitude that looked as though he were about to dive from a springboard.

Angry yells were filling the stadium. The crowd didn't want the veela to go. Harry again looked at Ron, who, meanwhile, was absentmindedly shredding the shamrocks on his hat. Mr. Weasley, smiling slightly, leaned over to Ron and tugged the hat out of his hands.

"You'll be wanting that," he said, "once Ireland have had their say."

"Huh?" said Ron, staring openmouthed at the veela, who had now lined up along one side of the field.

Hermione made a loud tutting noise. "Honestly!" she said.

"And now," roared Ludo Bagman's voice, "kindly put your wands in the air...for the Irish National Team Mascots!"

Next moment, what seemed to be a great green-and-gold comet came zooming into the stadium. It did one circuit of the stadium, then split into two smaller comets, each hurtling toward the goal posts. A rainbow arced suddenly across the field, connecting the two balls of light. The crowd oooohed and aaaaahed, as though at a fireworks display. Now the rainbow faded and the balls of light reunited and merged; they had formed a great shimmering shamrock, which rose up into the sky and began to soar over the stands. Something like golden rain seemed to be falling from it -

"Excellent!" yelled Fred as the shamrock soared over them, and heavy gold coins rained from it, bouncing off their heads and seats. Squinting up at the shamrock, Harry realized that it was actually comprised of thousands of tiny little bearded men with red vests, each carrying a minute lamp of gold or green.

"Leprechauns!" said Cedric over the tumultuous applause of the crowd, many of whom were still fighting and rummaging around under their chairs to retrieve the gold.

The great shamrock dissolved, the leprechauns drifted down onto the field on the opposite side from the veela, and settled themselves cross-legged to watch the match.

"And now, ladies and gentlemen, kindly welcome - the Bulgarian National Quidditch Team! I give you - Dimitrov!"

A scarlet-clad figure on a broomstick, moving so fast it was blurred, shot out onto the field from an entrance far below, to wild applause from the Bulgarian supporters.

"Ivanova!"

A second scarlet-robed player zoomed out.

"Zograf! Levski! Vulchanov! Volkov! Aaaaaaand - Krum!"

As the proclaiming of Viktor's name, Harry said," we met him earlier."

"You what!" shouted Fred in disbelief.

"Yeah he told us," said Cedric, pointing at Harry and himself," he wanted to fly against us at Hogwarts."

Viktor Krum was thin, dark, and sallow-skinned, with a large curved nose and thick black eyebrows. He looked like an overgrown bird of prey. It was hard to believe he was only seventeen in a month.

"And now, please greet - the Irish National Quidditch Team!" yelled Bagman. "Presenting - Connolly! Ryan! Troy! Mullet! Moran! Quigley! Aaaaaand - Lynch!"

Seven green blurs swept onto the field; Harry spun a small dial on the side of his Omnioculars and slowed the players down enough to read the word "Firebolt" on each of their brooms and see their names, embroidered in silver, upon their backs.

"And here, all the way from Egypt, our referee, acclaimed Chairwizard of the International Association of Quidditch, Hassan Mostafa!"

A small and skinny wizard, completely bald but with a mustache to rival Uncle Vernon's, wearing robes of pure gold to match the stadium, strode out onto the field. A silver whistle was protruding from under the mustache, and he was carrying a large wooden crate under one arm, his broomstick under the other. Harry spun the speed dial on his Omnioculars back to normal, watching closely as Mostafa mounted his broomstick and kicked the crate open - four balls burst into the air: the scarlet Quaffle, the two black Bludgers, and (Harry saw it for the briefest moment, before it sped out of sight) the minuscule, winged Golden Snitch. With a sharp blast on his whistle, Mostafa shot into the air after the balls.

"Theeeeeeeey're OFF!" screamed Bagman. "And it's Mullet! Troy! Moran! Dimitrov! Back to Mullet! Troy! Levski! Moran!"

It was Quidditch as Harry had never seen it played before. He was pressing his Omnioculars so hard to his glasses that they were cutting into the bridge of his nose. The speed of the players was incredible - the Chasers were throwing the Quaffle to one another so fast that Bagman only had time to say their names. Harry spun the slow dial on the right of his Omnioculars again, pressed the play-by-play button on the top, and he was immediately watching in slow motion, while glittering purple lettering flashed across the lenses and the noise of the crowd pounded against his eardrums.

HAWKSHEAD ATTACKING FORMATION, he read as he watched the three Irish Chasers zoom closely together, Troy in the center, slightly ahead of Mullet and Moran, bearing down upon the Bulgarians. PORSKOFF PLOY flashed up next, as Troy made as though to dart upward with the Quaffle, drawing away the Bulgarian Chaser Ivanova and dropping the Quaffle to Moran. One of the Bulgarian Beaters, Volkov, swung hard at a passing Bludger with his small club, knocking it into Moran's path; Moran ducked to avoid the Bludger and dropped the Quaffle; and Levski, soaring beneath, caught it - "TROY SCORES!" roared Bagman, and the stadium shuddered with a roar of applause and cheers. "Ten zero to Ireland!"

"What?" Harry yelled, looking wildly around through his Omnioculars. "But Levski's got the Quaffle!"

"Harry, if you're not going to watch at normal speed, you're going to miss things!" shouted Fleur, who was dancing up and down, waving her arms in the air while Troy did a lap of honor around the field. Harry looked quickly over the top of his Omnioculars and saw that the leprechauns watching from the sidelines had all risen into the air again and formed the great, glittering shamrock. Across the field, the veela were watching them sulkily.

Furious with himself, Harry spun his speed dial back to normal as play resumed.

Harry knew enough about Quidditch to see that the Irish Chasers were superb. They worked as a seamless team, their movements so well coordinated that they appeared to be reading one another's minds as they positioned themselves, and the rosette on Harry's chest kept squeaking their names: "Troy - Mullet - Moran!" And within ten minutes, Ireland had scored twice more, bringing their lead to thirty-zero and causing a thunderous tide of roars and applause from the green-clad supporters.

The match became still faster, but more brutal. Volkov and Vulchanov, the Bulgarian Beaters, were whacking the Bludgers as fiercely as possible at the Irish Chasers, and were starting to prevent them from using some of their best moves; twice they were forced to scatter, and then, finally, Ivanova managed to break through their ranks; dodge the Keeper, Ryan; and score Bulgaria's first goal.

"Fingers in your ears!" bellowed Mr. Weasley as the veela started to dance in celebration. Harry watched as the Weasleys screwed up their fingers in their ears and shut their eyes too, they obviously wanted to keep their minds on the game. After a few seconds, he took a glance at the field. The veela had stopped dancing, and Bulgaria was again in possession of the Quaffle.

"Dimitrov! Levski! Dimitrov! Ivanova - oh I say!" roared Bagman.

One hundred thousand wizards gasped as the two Seekers, Krum and Lynch, plummeted through the center of the Chasers, so fast that it looked as though they had just jumped from airplanes without parachutes. Harry followed their descent through his Omnioculars, squinting to see where the Snitch was -

"They're going to crash!" screamed Fleur next to Harry.

She was half right - at the very last second, Viktor Krum pulled out of the dive and spiraled off. Lynch, however, hit the ground with a dull thud that could be heard throughout the stadium. A huge groan rose from the Irish seats.

"Fool!" moaned Cedric. "Krum was feinting!"

"It's time-out!" yelled Bagman's voice, "as trained mediwizards hurry onto the field to examine Aidan Lynch!"

"He'll be okay, he only got ploughed!" Charlie said reassuringly to Ginny, who was hanging over the side of the box, looking horror-struck. "Which is what Krum was after, of course..."

Harry hastily pressed the replay and play-by-play buttons on his Omnioculars, twiddled the speed dial, and put them back up to his eyes.

He watched as Krum and Lynch dived again in slow motion. WRONSKI DEFENSIVE FEINT - DANGEROUS SEEKER DIVERSION read the shining purple lettering across his lenses. He saw Krum's face contorted with concentration as he pulled out of the dive just in time, while Lynch was flattened, and he understood - Krum hadn't seen the Snitch at all, he was just making Lynch copy him. Harry had never seen anyone fly like that; Krum hardly looked as though he was using a broomstick at all; he moved so easily through the air that he looked unsupported and weightless. Harry turned his Omnioculars back to normal and focused them on Krum. He was now circling high above Lynch, who was being revived by mediwizards with cups of potion. Harry, focusing still more closely upon Krum's face, saw his dark eyes darting all over the ground a hundred feet below. He was using the time while Lynch was revived to look for the Snitch without interference.

Lynch got to his feet at last, to loud cheers from the green-clad supporters, mounted his Firebolt, and kicked back off into the air. His revival seemed to give Ireland new heart. When Mostafa blew his whistle again, the Chasers moved into action with a skill unrivaled by anything Harry had seen so far.

After fifteen more fast and furious minutes, Ireland had pulled ahead by ten more goals. They were now leading by one hundred and thirty points to ten, and the game was starting to get dirtier.

As Mullet shot toward the goal posts yet again, clutching the Quaffle tightly under her arm, the Bulgarian Keeper, Zograf, flew out to meet her. Whatever happened was over so quickly Harry didn't catch it, but a scream of rage from the Irish crowd, and Mostafa's long, shrill whistle blast, told him it had been a foul.

"And Mostafa takes the Bulgarian Keeper to task for cobbing - excessive use of elbows!" Bagman informed the roaring spectators. "And - yes, it's a penalty to Ireland!"

The leprechauns, who had risen angrily into the air like a swarm of glittering hornets when Mullet had been fouled, now darted together to form the words "HA, HA, HA!"

The veela on the other side of the field leapt to their feet, tossed their hair angrily, and started to dance again.

As one, the Weasley boys stuffed their fingers into their ears, who needn't hadn't bothered.

"Look at the referee!" Fleur said, giggling.

Harry looked down at the field. Hassan Mostafa had landed right in front of the dancing veela, and was acting very oddly indeed. He was flexing his muscles and smoothing his mustache excitedly.

"Now, we can't have that!" said Ludo Bagman, though he sounded highly amused. "Somebody slap the referee!"

A mediwizard came tearing across the field, his fingers stuffed into his own ears, and kicked Mostafa hard in the shins. Mostafa seemed to come to himself; Harry, watching through the Omnioculars again, saw that he looked exceptionally embarrassed and had started shouting at the veela, who had stopped dancing and were looking mutinous.

"And unless I'm much mistaken, Mostafa is actually attempting to send off the Bulgarian team mascots!" said Bagman's voice. "Now there's something we haven't seen before...Oh this could turn nasty...

It did: The Bulgarian Beaters, Volkov and Vulchanov, landed on either side of Mostafa and began arguing furiously with him, gesticulating toward the leprechauns, who had now gleefully formed the words "HEE, HEE, HEE." Mostafa was not impressed by the Bulgarians' arguments, however; he was jabbing his finger into the air, clearly telling them to get flying again, and when they refused, he gave two short blasts on his whistle.

"Two penalties for Ireland!" shouted Bagman, and the Bulgarian crowd howled with anger. "And Volkov and Vulchanov had better get back on those brooms...yes...there they go...and Troy takes the Quaffle..."

Play now reached a level of ferocity beyond anything they had yet seen. The Beaters on both sides were acting without mercy: Volkov and Vulchanov in particular seemed not to care whether their clubs made contact with Bludger or human as they swung them violently through the air. Dimitrov shot straight at Moran, who had the Quaffle, nearly knocking her off her broom.

"Foul!" roared the Irish supporters as one, all standing up in a great wave of green.

"Foul!" echoed Ludo Bagman's magically magnified voice. "Dimitrov skins Moran - deliberately flying to collide there - and it's got to be another penalty - yes, there's the whistle!"

The leprechauns had risen into the air again, and this time, they formed a giant hand, which was making a very rude sign indeed at the veela across the field. At this, the veela lost control. Instead of dancing, they launched themselves across the field and began throwing what seemed to be handfuls of fire at the leprechauns. Watching through his Omnioculars, Harry saw that they didn't look remotely beautiful now. On the contrary, their faces were elongating into sharp, cruel-beaked bird heads, and long, scaly wings were bursting from their shoulders -

"And that, boys," yelled Mr. Weasley over the tumult of the crowd below, "is why you should never go for looks alone!"

Ministry wizards were flooding onto the field to separate the veela and the leprechauns, but with little success; meanwhile, the pitched battle below was nothing to the one taking place above. Harry turned this way and that, staring through his Omnioculars, as the Quaffie changed hands with the speed of a bullet.

"Levski - Dimitrov - Moran - Troy - Mullet - Ivanova - Moran again - Moran - MORAN SCORES!"

But the cheers of the Irish supporters were barely heard over the shrieks of the veela, the blasts now issuing from the Ministry members' wands, and the furious roars of the Bulgarians. The game recommenced immediately; now Levski had the Quaffle, now Dimitrov -

The Irish Beater Quigley swung heavily at a passing Bludger, and hit it as hard as possible toward Krum, who did not duck quickly enough. It hit him full in the face.

Fleur tightened the grip on Harry's hand he hadn't realised she had.

There was a deafening groan from the crowd; Krum's nose looked broken, there was blood everywhere, but Hassan Mostafa didn't blow his whistle. He had become distracted, and Harry couldn't blame him; one of the veela had thrown a handful of fire and set his broom tail alight.

Harry wanted someone to realize that Krum was injured; even though he was supporting Ireland, Krum was the most exciting player on the field. Fred obviously felt the same.

"Time-out! Ah, come on, he can't play like that, look at him -"

"Look at Lynch!" Harry yelled.

For the Irish Seeker had suddenly gone into a dive, and Harry was quite sure that this was no Wronski Feint; this was the real thing...

"He's seen the Snitch!" Harry shouted. "He's seen it! Look at him go!"

Half the crowd seemed to have realized what was happening; the Irish supporters rose in another great wave of green, screaming their Seeker on...but Krum was on his tail. How he could see where he was going, Harry had no idea; there were flecks of blood flying through the air behind him, but he was drawing level with Lynch now as the pair of them hurtled toward the ground again -

"They're going to crash!" shrieked Fred.

"They're not!" roared George.

"Lynch is!" yelled Harry.

And he was right - for the second time, Lynch hit the ground with tremendous force and was immediately stampeded by a horde of angry veela.

"The Snitch, where's the Snitch?" bellowed Charlie, on the front row.

"He's got it - Krum's got it - it's all over!" shouted Harry.

Krum, his red robes shining with blood from his nose, was rising gently into the air, his fist held high, a glint of gold in his hand.

The scoreboard was flashing BULGARIA: 160, IRELAND: 170 across the crowd, who didn't seem to have realized what had happened. Then, slowly, as though a great jumbo jet were revving up, the rumbling from the Ireland supporters grew louder and louder and erupted into screams of delight.

"IRELAND WINS!" Bagman shouted, who like the Irish, seemed to be taken aback by the sudden end of the match.

"KRUM GETS THE SNITCH - BUT IRELAND WINS - good lord, I don't think any of us were expecting that!"

"What did he catch the Snitch for?" Harry heard Ron bellow, even as he jumped up and down, applauding with his hands over his head. "He ended it when Ireland were a hundred and sixty points ahead, the idiot!"

"He knew they were never going to catch up!" Bill shouted back over all the noise, also applauding loudly. "The Irish Chasers were too good...He wanted to end it on his terms, that's all...

"He was very brave, wasn't he?" Hermione said, leaning forward to watch Krum land as a swarm of mediwizards blasted a path through the battling leprechauns and veela to get to him. "He looks a terrible mess..."

Harry put his Omnioculars to his eyes again. It was hard to see what was happening below, because leprechauns were zooming delightedly all over the field, but he could just make out Krum, surrounded by mediwizards. He looked surlier than ever and refused to let them mop him up. His team members were around him, shaking their heads and looking dejected; a short way away, the Irish players were dancing gleefully in a shower of gold descending from their mascots. Flags were waving all over the stadium, the Irish national anthem blared from all sides; the veela were shrinking back into their usual, beautiful selves now, though looking dispirited and forlorn.

"Vell, ve fought bravely," said a gloomy voice behind Harry. He looked around; it was the Bulgarian Minister of Magic.

"You can speak English!" said Fudge, sounding outraged. "And you've been letting me mime everything all day!"

"Veil, it vos very funny," said the Bulgarian minister, shrugging.

"And as the Irish team performs a lap of honor, flanked by their mascots, the Quidditch World Cup itself is brought into the Top Box!" roared Bagman.

Harry's eyes were suddenly dazzled by a blinding white light, as the Top Box was magically illuminated so that everyone in the stands could see the inside. Squinting toward the entrance, he saw two panting wizards carrying a vast golden cup into the box, which they handed to Cornelius Fudge, who was still looking very disgruntled that he'd been using sign language all day for nothing.

"Let's have a really loud hand for the gallant losers - Bulgaria!" Bagman shouted.

And up the stairs into the box came the seven defeated Bulgarian players. The crowd below was applauding appreciatively; Harry could see thousands and thousands of Omniocular lenses flashing and winking in their direction.

One by one, the Bulgarians filed between the rows of seats in the box, and Bagman called out the name of each as they shook hands with their own minister and then with Fudge. Krum, who was last in line, looked a real mess. Two black eyes were blooming spectacularly on his bloody face. He was still holding the Snitch. Harry noticed that he seemed much less coordinated on the ground. He was slightly duck-footed and distinctly round-shouldered. Although he still waved at Harry and Cedric when he saw them.

When Krum's name was announced, the whole stadium gave him a resounding, earsplitting roar.

And then came the Irish team. Aidan Lynch was being supported by Moran and Connolly; the second crash seemed to have dazed him and his eyes looked strangely unfocused. But he grinned happily as Troy and Quigley lifted the Cup into the air and the crowd below thundered its approval. Harry's hands were numb with clapping.

At last, when the Irish team had left the box to perform another lap of honor on their brooms (Aidan Lynch on the back of Confolly's, clutching hard around his waist and still grinning in a bemused sort of way), followed by the Bulgarian team bar Krum.

Bagman then pointed his wand at his throat and muttered, "Quietus."

"They'll be talking about this one for years," he said hoarsely, "a really unexpected twist, that...shame it couldn't have lasted longer...Ah yes...yes, I owe you...how much?"

For Fred and George had just scrambled over the backs of their seats and were standing in front of Ludo Bagman with broad grins on their faces, their hands outstretched.

Before the twins could reply a shout could heard.

"Come here!" shouted Lucius to Draco.

"No," replied Draco.

"I invoke stature 24 of ancient magic that as head of the family, forces to do as a command," said Lucius smugly.

"No, because I am emacipanated," replied Draco calmly.

"What! How!" shouted Lucius.

"You see, my dear godfather Severus Snape was more than happy to help me perform the ritual, all he had to do was observe and sign on the dotted line," replied Draco, smugly.

At this the whole stadium gasped as they could hear the event happening in the Top Box, due to a few well placed spells from Draco.

"Well, this is unexpected," whispered Fred sarcastically to Harry, Cedric, Fleur, Krum and George, all of whom were stood together.

"What," screeched Lucius, who looks at Fudge," is he allowed to do this?"

Fudge nods," I'm afraid he is, you see the emancipation ritual only needs a relative to observe and sign and a godfather fits the requirements."

"So my dear ex-parents," said Draco," it's time you paid for your crimes."

"What crimes?" asked Lucius.

"The ones you performed during your time as a Death Eater," said Draco grabbing Lucius's sleeve and putting it up to reveal the Dark Mark.

"This proves nothing, I was under the Imperious Curse," said Lucius. He leaned forward to whisper in Draco's ear," you cannot prove anything, I am the law."

Lucius sat down and sipped his firewhiskey.

"That's where you're wrong," replied Draco," you see I put Veritaserum in your drink." Draco uncovered a small bottle of clear liquid as Lucius choked in his drink.

"Now, were you, Lucius Malfoy and your wife Narcissa under the Imperious during your time as Death Eaters?" asked Draco.

"No," replied Lucius, as many people in the top box gasped.

Before anyone could react, Lucius struck out, punching Draco in the face, knocking him into Fudge, who looked scandalised.

For a few seconds no one moved then Viktor leapt on Lucius, closely followed by Cedric and Harry. After a minute of fighting the three teens managed to pin Lucius.

"Incarcerous," said Draco, raised his wand and bound his father in ropes thanks to become of age via emancipation.

As Harry, Cedric and Viktor stood up a tall African man entered the top box.

He walked over to Harry shook his hand," Kingsley Shacklebolt, Head of the Auror Department," he said with a deep, booming voice.

"Minister," he continued," are we going to arrest them?"

"Yes, we cannot allow Death Eaters running around, not paying for their crimes," replied Fudge as he sat down and downed his drink.

"I place Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy under arrest for willingly taking part in the terrorist group the Death Eaters pending the conformation of a trial date," said Kingsley.

The Auror Guard complied.

"Take them away," Kingsley gestured to the elder Malfoys.

"Wait!" shouted Draco, which made the Aurors leading the elder Malfoys away freeze.

"I need to ask them a few more questions," stated Draco.

Kingsley nodded

"Lucius, was Sirius Black a Death Eater," asked Draco.

"No," replied Lucius.

"Was he guilty of the crimes he was imprisoned for?" questioned Draco.

"No," replied Lucius.

"Why?" asks Draco.

"Because Peter Pettigrew was the one who betrayed the Potters, he was the real secret keeper, Black was a decoy," replied Lucius," Pettigrew still lives today, he is a rat animagus, he cut off his finger and ran."

"Hmm. With this new evidence I hereby clear Sirius Black of his supposed crimes until a suitable trial sat is found," said Fudge.

"Preposterous!" shouted someone from the crowd.

"We all know Sirius Black wouldn't never have willingly betrayed James and Lily Potter, Pettigrew is a different matter," replied Kingsley," someone will need to find Sirius Black."

Then a the disembodied voice of Sirius Black could be heard," no need Kingsley, I'm right here."

Then Sirius Black appeared from thin air after removing a Disillusionment Charm.

"I'm afraid you've got a little security breach," said Remus Lupin as he too removed a Disillusionment Charm.

The two marauders then approached Harry and enveloped his in a hug.

"Hey Prongslet," said Sirius.

"Hey," replied Harry.

Fudge sat in his seat, his mouth opening and closing uselessly.

"If it was in any other situation," said Fudge," I would have you arrested, but seen as you're just been cleared on your crimes, I let you off this one time."

Harry snorted silently at this.

"Back to business," said Fudge as the hug broke apart," Sirius I hereby reinstate you as the Head of the Black family and as an Auror."

Sirius nodded.

"Excuse me," said Draco," but since Sirius is my second cousin and Black is my mother's maiden name, could I change my last name to Black?"

"Certainly, you'll have to incorporate the Malfoy fortune into that of the Black fortune, since it is forfeited to you as the two more senior members of the family are under arrest," replied Fudge.

Draco nodded in agreement.

"Sirius?" asked Kingsley.

"I will do it," answered Sirius.

"I, Draco Tiberius Malfoy, shed my last name and return it to that of my mother's maiden name, Black, with the incorporation of the Malfoy fortune into the Black fortune."

"I, Sirius Orion Black, Head of the Black Family agree to your conditions and welcome you, Draco Tiberius Black into the Black Family."

Sirius and Draco then shook hands.

"Now, now," called Fudge," that's enough excitement for one day, so could everyone please leave in an orderly fashion."

At this tree was a great din, as the entire stadium, who had been watching the Top Box, stood and began to exit the stadium.

In the Top Box it too had begun to empty, as Draco walked up to Harry and held his hand out.

"I apologise for the way I have treated you over the last three years," said Draco.

"I accept your aplogy and I would like to apologise for not giving you a chance to prove yourself," replied Harry as Draco nodded.

Instead of shaking Draco's hand Harry embraces him in a manly hug.

After finishing the hug Draco and Harry joined Fleur, Cedric and the twins and set off back to the campsite.

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	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4 - THE POWER OF THE ELEMENTS

A/N: A mystical power link the Triwizard Champions. Fire, Water, Earth, Air and Lighting. How will Harry, Fleur, Cedric, Krum and Draco cope with these powers? Will they be able to defeat Voldemort? Harry/Fleur Cedric/Cho and Krum/Katie. Intelligent!Harry

A/N 2: Parts of this chapter are taken from Chapter 9 of HP:GOF.

A/N 3: I have edited and reposted Chapter 3.

Disclaimer: Not mine. Simples!

XXXXXXXXXXXX

"Don't tell your mother you've been gambling," implored Mr Weasley as the party of the Weasleys, the Diggorys, the Delacours, the Blacks, Hermione, Remus and Harry make their way slowly down the purple-carpeted stairs on their to the tents.

"Don't worry, Dad, we've got big plans for this money," replied Fred gleefully," We don't want it confiscated."

Mr. Weasley looked as if he wants to ask what these big plans are, but decided against it.

"So, how long are you staying for?" asks Fleur to Harry.

Harry kept on walking, not knowing the answer for the question.

"Umm-"

"Three more days," interrupted Fred, replying for Harry

"Me too!" said Fleur excited.

Fleur hugged Harry tightly, which made Cedric and the others snigger and Harry to glare at them.

"Don't worry about them," said Fleur," they're just jealous."

Fleur pecked Harry on the cheek.

This made Cedric, Draco, Krum and the twins stop laughing, shocked. Grinning at this Harry takes Fleur's hand in his own .

From the corner of his eye Harry could see Ron, Hermione and Ginny all giving Fleur dirty looks. Again Harry could feel his anger like electric shocks his in blood.

Before Harry completely lost his cool they reached the tents. To everyone's surprise none other than Albus Dumbledore is stood waiting for them.

"Good evening, Arthur," said Dumbldore," would you mind if I borrow a few of your charges for while?"

Mr Weasley nodded. At this Harry, Ron and Hermione step forward out of reflex.

Dumbledore, ignoring Harry, Ron and Hermione actions, said," Good, could I borrow Mr Potter, Mr Diggory, Mr Krum, Mr Black and Miss Delacour."

Dumbledore gestured to Harry, Cedric, Viktor, Draco and Fleur respectively.

Mr Weasley nodded again.

"I'd also like to speak to Sirius, Remus and Amos," continued Dumbledore.

The three mentioned give each other knowing looks.

"We can use my tent, if you want," said Amos.

Dumbledore nodded and entered Amos's tent. Those asked to see Dumbldore followed him in. Ron and Hermione looked angry and the twins laughed at this.

XXXXXXXXXX

Inside the tent was a sparingly decorated living/kitchen room with a large number of of doors leading of it to what Harry presumed were bedrooms. A large table sat in the middle of the room with at least 12 chairs around it. All those present took a seat, with Dumbledore at the head.

"I asked to speak to you for two reasons," said Dumbledore. "The first reason is about a prophecy, a prophecy that is closely linked to both Lord Voldemort (Harry was glad to see that at the mention of Voldemort's name no-one flinched) and you Harry."

Everyone bar Sirius, Remus and Amos looked surprised.

"What is this prophecy?" asked Harry confusedly. "Who made it?"

"The prophecy was given by none than Sybil Trealawney," anwsered Dumbledore. "The prophecy goes like this.

The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches.

Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies.

And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not.

And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives.

The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies."

Harry froze in shock at this revelation. Fleur put a comforting arm around his shoulder.

"This prophecy refers to you, Harry, as it says the one to vanquish the Dark Lord would be born at the end of July like you and would be born to parents who had defied him three times. Your parents deified him thrice," explained Dumbledore.

"So you're telling me that my parents are dead because of a bloody prophecy?" shouted Harry angrily as he felt the felt the shocks in his body again.

Dumbledore nodded gravely.

Harry stood up," Bullshit! I'm gonna find Voldemort and when I do I'll destroy whatever's left of that twisted bastard!"

Fleur also stood up and pulled Harry into hug. To everyone's surprise Harry began to cry. After five minutes Harry broke the hug and wiped his eyes and sat down at the same time as Fleur.

"Why did you never tell me?" asked Harry calmly.

"I wanted you to have a childhood Harry, I'm telling you this prophecy now because you are mature enough to deal with it. Especially after walking away from that argument with Miss Granger and Mr Ronald Weasley earlier," replied Dumbledore.

"With all due respect sir, but I punched Ron," said Harry.

"But you still walked away instead of brawling, although might I say, that was an impressive right hook," explained Dumbledore chuckling.

For the next half an hour the Headmaster of Hogwarts proceeded to outline to important parts of the prophecy.

"Sir, you mentioned a second reason," stated Draco.

"Ahh yes, this is slightly more interesting subject," replied Dumbledore," Have you ever heard of elemental magic?"

"It's conjuring an element with your wand," replied Fleur.

"Correct, also into every generation a sole wizard or witch is born with the ability to harness the power of a certain element without a wand and with much greater power," explained Dumbledore.

"Wow!" chorused Harry, Cedric and Draco.

"Most usually there is five per generation although a few hundred years ago there was eight at the same time," continued Dumbledore.

"Sir, why are telling us this?" asked Harry.

"Because the five of you are elementalists," stated Dumbledore to the shock of the teenagers.

"Us?" asked Cedric incredulity.

Dumbldore nods," your powers were awoken today, when the five of you met for the first time,"

"What elements are there?" asked Viktor.

"There is eight types," replied the aged headmaster," Earth, Air, Fire, Water, Lightning, Light, Dark and Ice. An Earth Elementalist can summon vines, control rocks and dig underground. A Water Elementalist can summon and control water, as well as being able to breathe underwater. An Air Elementalist can create strong gusts of wind and can fly. A Fire Elementalist can summon and control fire, as well as being impervious to it. A Lightning Elementalist can summon and control lightning and electricity. Light and Dark Elementalists are known to be incredibly talented at martial arts. Also, they can summon areas of light or dark, depending on their element, around them and only they can see through it. Finally, an Ice Elemetalist can summon and control ice, they are also impervious to cold temperatures."

The teenagers sat in stunned silence.

"Light and Dark Elementalists only appear every few centuries and there has only ever been one Ice Elementalist. The other elements appear in every generation," continued Dumbledore.

"Are there an elementalists alive?" asked Fleur.

Dumbledored chuckled," yes, I am a Light Elementalist. I defeated Grindewald, who was a Dark Elementalist, at the cost of the other five elementalists of my generation."

"The last generation was the core five elements," continued Dumbledore.

"Who were they?" asked Viktor.

"The Fire Elementalist was Lily Potter," replied Dumbledore making Harry's jaw drop.

"Really?" asked Harry disbelievingly.

"Yes, your father was the Lightning Elementalist," stated the ancient wizard.

"Who were the others?" asked Draco.

"I think you'll find them in this room," replied Dumbledore.

Slowly the heads of the teenagers swivelled to look at Sirius, Remus and Amos, all who had kept rather quiet since the conversation began.

Sirius laughter at the shocked faces of the teenagers. Beside him a small, wistful smile spread across the face of Remus, happy to he his friend truly laugh for the first time since escaping Azkaban.

"Yes Prongslet, we are," said Sirius.

Remus sighed," I'm the Water Elementalist, Sirius is the Air and Amos is the Earth."

"Are the powers heredity?" asked Cedric, noting the family ties between the two generations.

"Not directly Father to Son usually, but a relative," answered Dumbledore," Harry inherited it from his parents, Cedric from you father, Draco is the second cousin of Sirius, Fleur great-grandmother was the Water Elementalist in my generation and there was an Air Elementalist in the generation prior to mine called Ivan Krum."

"So, what do the elements look like?" asked Fleur.

"This," stated Sirius.

Sirius stepped forward and his whole body began to glow yellow, followed by Amos and Remus who began to glow green and blue respectively.

Then a strong breeze began to form around Sirius. Remus produced water, which he shaped into different objects. Finally Amos sprouted vines from the ground which began to creep over the floor and ground shook slightly.

After a minute the three men cancelled their powers.

"Sir, what are our elements?" asked Harry.

"Other than that the five of you possess the core elements, I can't tell you till you activate you elements," replied Dumbledore," to activate your elements you must close your eyes and picture you feel will be the most likely to be our element. You need to feel the element, you'll be able to tell if you've found your element or not. If not simple try a different one until you find your elements."

"Should we do it now?" asked Cedric impatiently.

Dumbledore nods.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

Harry closed his eyes, he figured his element was most like to be fire or lightning because of his parents. Picking one at random, Harry pictured a flame, but could not feel any magical powers.

Harry then pictured lightning and smiled as he had always liked lightning since he was a child. Immediately he could feel a rush of energy through his body which began to collect in his hands. Opening his eyes and looking at his hands Harry gasped. His hand were glowing purple and had little sparks of lightning dancing around them.

XXXXXXXXXX

Fleur closed and immediately decided to try water. Quickly summoning a picture of water in her head, she could feel waves of energy emanating from her hands. Slowly Fleur opened her eyes and looked at her hands. Her hands were glowing blue and the glow was flowing around her hands like water.

XXXXXXXXXX

Cedric closed his eyes and quickly came to the conclusion that his element was most likely earth, like his father. Cedric pictured earth in his mind and straight away he could feel it power flowing through his body and collecting in his hands. Opening his hand Cedric looked at his hands, which were now glowing green.

XXXXXXXXXX

Viktor slowly shut his eyes. He thought back to what his father had said his great-grandfather what called. He quickly remember his great-grandfather was in fact called Ivan Krum. In his mind pictured strong gusts of wind.

Almost instantaneously Viktor felt warmth of energy flow through him and settle in his hands. Opening his eyes he looked at his hands. His hands were glowing yellow and he could feel the cold from the wind swirling around his hand cooling his hands.

XXXXXXXXXX

Draco slowly shut his eyes. He decided to try air first as Sirius was an Air Elementalist and it make sense for them to possess the same elements. Draco quickly summoned a picture of wind, but could not feel an special powers.

Sighing disappointedly Draco picture water and how it flowed, but nothing happened. Draco then decided to picture fire in his mind, immediately he could energy in his blood, burning like fire.

Draco slowly opened his eyes to see his hands were alight with a red glow that looked oddly like fire.

XXXXXXXXX

Dumbledore's usually somber expression changed quickly to one of shock when he saw the teenagers's hands glowing like they were.

It had taken himself a whole year to get to the level he teenagers were at, Sirius, Remus and Amos had taken even longer.

Slowly the light of the teenagers's faded," that display of elemental magic in someone as inexperienced as yourselves is very powerful," said Dumledore.

As this Dumbldore had the teenager ms go through an hour long session of drills for their elements, which ended with Cedric, Draco and Viktor getting a through soaking from Fleur due their comments at the connection between Fleur and Harry.

"I think that is enough," said Dumbledore.

The five teens slumped into chairs, breathless from their drills.

"I'm afraid that I must leave you now, I trust you will joining the celebrations," said Dumbledore turning to leave.

Harry quickly looked at his watch, only ten pm, he had thought it had been much later.

"Sir?" questioned Harry.

"Yes Harry," replied Dumbledore.

"Why has this happened to us, here, right now?" asked Harry.

"Fate Harry," answered the Headmaster," Fate."

Dumbledore then disapperated.

"Right, I think it's time Fleur when back to her tent," said Sirius, standing up," We don't want her parents thinking she and Harry have up to anything they shouldn't be," he finished slyly, making everyone laugh bar Harry and Fleur, who glared at him.

"Why don't you walk Fleur home, Harry?" asked Viktor cheekily.

"What about you?" questioned Harry.

Viktor turned to Amos," I was wondering if I could stay here tonight? I don't really want to face my team right now."

"No, it's fine if you stay here," replied Amos.

"Now, you two, go," said Sirius whilst pushing Harry and Fleur out the door.

XXXXXXXXXX

On the the trip back to Fleur's tent, she and Harry held hands and chatted about their lives and how it was to be the Boy-Who-Lived and a quarter-veela.

Arriving at the tent, the two turned to face each other.

"Well, this is it," said Harry.

"We'll be seeing each other soon at Hogwarts," replied Fleur.

Harry nodded.

Then their eyes met, blue to green. For a few seconds they stared into each other eyes, then they leaned forwards and their lips met.

The kiss only lasted a few seconds, but it immediately became Harry's best memory, which Harry silently mused would make a very powerful patronus.

Breaking apart the two leaned their their forehead against the other's.

Fleur stepped back," see you at the entrance to your campsite at 11 am tomorrow."

"It's a date," stated Harry, making Fleur smile broadly.

Fleur leaned in and kissed Harry on the cheek. "Bye."

"Night," replied Harry.

Fleur turned and walked into her tent.

Harry also turned around, walking back to his tent with a goofy grin plastered on his face.


	5. Important AN

**Important A/N: As of this note this story is abandoned, although I have decided to re-write the story due to multitude of reasons, heavy use of original HP text, the story was going in the wrong direction and, most importantly, it wasn't very good. The re-write is called 'United We Stand', and the prologue has been uploaded, which starts at Halloween 1981, a little earlier than the main body in 1994-1997. Please check it out, the major plot change is to have Neville joining the main group (Harry, Fleur etc.) as a main character.**


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